


something, in the woods somewhere

by thespideyboy



Series: my spideypool collection [14]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this instead of studying, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Peter Parker Loves Wade Wilson, Peter Parker gives him that hug, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, it's cute i promise, problems sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespideyboy/pseuds/thespideyboy
Summary: It’s Peter, of course it’s Peter, definitive and opaque and real. He stands with his back straight and his hair tossed, a valley of concern residing in the stressed wrinkle above his brow.“Come to bed, babe.” The younger man speaks gently, eases his presence into Wade’s like a sullen lament, “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: my spideypool collection [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1289819
Comments: 7
Kudos: 140





	something, in the woods somewhere

Wade walks himself in circles, his pace restrained only by the limited space of the bedroom. He should be running, but he’s here instead, trapped in a room that’s too small, a home that’s not his. 

Razor-edged ideas cut across his vision, dragging across his scalp with a volition he can’t trace. They don’t follow any tangible rules- these thoughts project vile realities over his own, reddening his eyes and numbing his tongue. His vision is warped and drained of colour. 

The face of a child flickers in the corner of his eye. He jolts to the right, a hasty attempt at capturing the disembodied face, collecting it in his memory, but nothing is there. Another apparition, he understands. Another false perception of a person he once knew, a life he couldn’t save. 

He continues to circle, the tracks of his boots leaving craters in the cheap carpet. The damage is minimal, fixed with a good wash and a little bit of baking soda, but it sends his heart into a flurry of panic- he’s causing harm, causing more trouble, _more trouble again, more trouble than he’s worth-_

A steady hand closes around Wade’s tensed shoulder. He doesn’t turn to check this time, certain that it’s another apparition, another expression from someone long passed. 

He doesn’t turn to check. 

He focuses on the pale blue of the walls, the pitch black night seeping in from the open window.

He doesn’t turn to check. 

He doesn’t turn to check, until-

The hand is warm, Slender and warm. It’s too real to not be, too solid against the ridge of his muscle, so he takes a breath and turns, braces his heart for another disappointment, readies his throat for another onslaught of suffocating thoughts, but-

It’s Peter, _of course it’s Peter,_ definitive and opaque and _real._ He stands with his back straight and his hair tossed, a valley of concern residing in the stressed wrinkle above his brow. 

“Come to bed, babe.” The younger man speaks gently, eases his presence into Wade’s like a sullen lament, “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Wade’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open- he can’t muster enough control to form a word, can’t force his head to nod or step towards the other. 

“I see you. I have you, okay?” Peter isn’t a mindreader but he’s done this too many times to _not know._ He won’t falter, not when he understands the unpredictable whims of Wade’s brain, the wretched thoughts that collect in the corners of his mind like asbestos. “ _I have you.”_

Wade is large but Peter is stronger like he’ll never be- despite his trim figure, Peter lifts him like he’s a child, cradles him like he’s a lost pup, and delivers him to the plush hold of the bed. His feet scream with the relief of pleasure. 

The body of a blanket is folded over his curled form, tucked beneath his shivering edges and pulled up to his chin. Peter settles in beside him, the bed dipping where it adjusts to his weight. 

“I have you.” He repeats again. His hand crawls across the blanketed span of Wade’s bicep, soothes careful rounds into the knotted tendons. “I’m here, you’re here. You’re safe, alright?”

Faces, both featureless and not, continue to parade across Wade’s peripherals. Eyes open and closed, the apparitions don’t discriminate- they curl around his corneas like vines, slice his lenses with bloodied leaves.

He forces himself to concentrate on Peter’s face, on the only thing he’s almost certain is one with reality. Even distorted and tired and hazy at the edges, he’s a sight that renders Wade breathless, a dreamy percept that whispers love in his ears and comfort against his angry skin.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, but exhaustion claims his consciousness before the sun is risen. The last thing he processes is Peter’s face, his dark eyes, his soft cheeks. 

“I have you.” Peter says one last time, his own eyelids drooping. Wade doesn’t respond, but the easy sigh he releases is enough to lull Peter into his own slumber. 

**Author's Note:**

> so this piece has been sitting in my drafts for ages, and I figured that it's finally time I name & post it!
> 
> it's. short and sweet, but keep an eye out! I've got a much longer thing I'm working on right now and I should be done really really soon! 
> 
> anyways! thanks for reading and I hope y'all enjoyed :) 
> 
> &&& don't be scared to give me a shout over on tumblr [@thespideyboy](https://thespideyboy.tumblr.com) ! <3


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